Talk:The 125th Annual Hunger Games/@comment-26976397-20141123124712
Name: '''Clemench Pharr '''Age: '''15 '''District: 15 Appearance: Clemench has long, straight blonde hair that ends beyond her chest. She has a rather pale skin complexion, and with her grey eyes, most people who judge her by outside will think she is 12. Physically, she is average weight, and stands at 5'3, meaning she is quite short. Clemench has several depression issues, meaning she considers herself ugly, even tough people always admire her beauty. Backstory: I was born in the Capitol. I wouldn't stay there for even a year, but apparently staying there as a baby effected me somehow. My parents were doctors from the Capitol, and were sent to an island to find the cure to a disease who had the potential to destroy Panem. When i was too little to remember, we boarded on a ship, and along with the most noble doctors from the Capitol, we landed on an island. And District 15 was born. My parents seemed to care a lot about me by outside, but that was their public image. I knew they didn't care about me at all. Everyone desired to be from their family. Each child wanted to have my parents as theirs. But my life was truly a hell. Since i was 7, my parents would research alternate medicines and liquoirs trying to find a cure to the disease, but they wouldn't test it on helpless lab rats like anyone else. They would hold me down, and inject me with anything you can imagine as i helplessly struggled. Yes, they found the cure, but they destroyed their daughter to get to it. I barely could walk for a few time. My vision got blurry, and untill today i can't have a decent sight. Once they figured out the cure, my parents started to consider themselves superior than the rest of the people from District 15, and isolated themselves and me from the society, who "wasn't good enough to get close to us". By one side, i thought that the suffering would be over, but it had barely started. Once everyone started to forget about the disease and their names, they started injecting me again trying to find alternate methods of healing to any disease you can imagine. Now i had to use a wheelchair, became blind and had headaches 24/7. They knew i was suffering, and that they were torturing me, but they didn't care. As long as they were remembered, i could just get digged into a hole and they wouldn't miss me. One day, when they started doing surgeries on me, i knew i couldn't handle this anymore. I got a knife in the kitchen, but instead of killing my parents, what i really wanted to do, i just cut my own wrists, hoping to die by bleeding out. But it didn't happen. And i knew the suffering would never be over. After that day, my parents made the procedures even worse. They would inject me with weird liquoirs trying to find the cure of God-knows-what, and i would stay knocked out for nearly two days. Their names were remembered again. But nobody knew about what they did to me. And i wanted everyone to know. But it wasn't possible. There was only one way to escape. One day, i was cooking, as i'm forced to, when my father entered the kitchen, hiding a syringe on his pocket. I wasn't stupid. I knew what i had to do. I grabbed the knife with all my fingers, and when he attempted to hold me down, i buried the knife across his eye. He shouted, calling me a bitch, a waste of oxygen, but tearfully i managed to leave that place. I ran for what seemed like hours, untill i got to the house of a loving couple of doctors. They had two children, one boy and a girl, and i soon got along well with them. I told the couple about my story, and they were shocked, but i begged them to not tell the peacekeepers about it. I never knew why i begged them for it, but i think that somehow i had feelings for the ones who tortured me for years. The couple allowed me to live with them, and my life seemed like a fairytale. Untill i got picked for the Hunger Games.